Joe Carter is a great writer, a good man, and a fine American. He could beat me up without noticing the effort.
He is Red Bull in the blogosphere to my Skim Milk.
He is, in all probability, more influential than Senator Tom Coburn.
He is an omnivorous reader with the sense to enjoy both pop and “high” culture. On a good day, Joe Carter shows why blogging should be taken seriously.
This was not a good day.
Having praised Joe Carter, it is now my sad duty to snort in his general direction. If he is Red Bull in the blogosphere, he is a glass of tepid New York City water drawn from a dirty South Bronx tap when it comes to reading and then grading Plato.
At least today.
I would be very hesitant to opine negatively about Marine Corps training techniques, always carrying the not improbable thought, the little warning whisper, that I have utterly missed the point of the exercise. The historic success of the Marine Corps suggests that they know something that I may not.
So too when reading a new genre of literature, it is easy to judge too quickly. If one is Twain, then one can (however unfairly) dismiss Cooper, but the rest of us should take more care.
Carter quickly dismisses Plato and I shall soon (though less quickly) dismiss Carter on Plato. If Carter is Twain (the Twain of blogging?), then perhaps I am just a reactionary unable to stand the lash of his wit. Or perhaps Carter did not listen to the little warning voice that says, “I must have missed something.” and is heeded by the wise.
It was be sad to have Twain’s confidence, but Keith Olbermann’s wit.
We are both dismissive: I of Carter on Plato, Carter of Plato.
Of the two of us, I am, I think, engaged in the less risky task.
This is not to say that one must like all “great books,” but one should be very carefully about dismissing them as rubbish.
Everyone should be encouraged to read genres of literature with which they are unfamiliar and it is a loathsome task to correct the good hearted reader. One fears discouraging reading new stuff, but Joe has not just read new stuff, he has pronounced on it.
This strikes me as imprudent, but perhaps it is the nature of blogging to be imprudent. Heaven knows we opine freely enough here at Scriptorium Daily. Let’s therefore assume Joe heard that little warning whisper that said, “Beware. Plato has survived for centuries. Have I missed something?” and chose to be puckish, because it is the nature of blogs to be puckish.
If so then Puck was right when he (sort of said), “My what fools these bloggers be.”
His relationship with classical literature, particularly Plato, is quite similar to my relationship with the US Marine Corp: friendly, doggedly interested, but often totally wrong headed when it comes to understanding the details of what they do.
Here is his review in total:
Plato’s Lysis [classics] — I suspect the ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes wrote The Clouds–a satire which mockingly portrays Socrates as a foolish sophist–after reading Plato’s Lysis–a dialogue that unintentionally portrays Socrates as a foolish sophist. The discussion is ostensibly about friendship (which, herein, appears to mean boy-boy love). Yet after a meandering throat clearing session followed by a dull aligning and knocking down of strawmen, Socrates concludes by summarizing:
If neither the beloved, nor the lover, nor the like, nor the unlike, nor the good, nor the congenial, nor any other of whom we spoke-for there were such a number of them that I cannot remember all-if none of these are friends, I know not what remains to be said.
I too know not what remains to be said, except, “Maybe Aristophanes was on to something…” Rating: D
In his short reviews, Joe includes a very helpful pointer to an excellent wallet. Imagine Carter had attacked this helpful product for being a rotten rain coat. The makers would rightly complain that their wallet was not intended to be a rain coat and that they were content to be a good wallet.
Plato has written a dialogue, a genre that is not written like contemporary philosophy or apologetics. It is more like a philosophical play than treatise. Of course, it is not a play in the sense that it intends merely to entertain. It is trying to encourage participation.
Joe did participate. He rightly grows angry and bored by why he sees as Socrates “sophistry.” If he had then paused, for just a moment, and asked, “Why is this great writer, Plato, putting such remarks into Socrates mouth?” it would have been even better.
Socrates is a character in the dialogue. He is not always right and he is not just the “voice of Plato.” Plato was perfectly capable of writing in his own voice when he wished.
Socrates is confronting some very opinionated young men eager to love and sure they understand what love is. He shows them conceptual problems with their ideas about love . . . but he does so in a way they can understand and not the way he will use with different students. The “straw men” he knocks down are ones that they accept. Why do they accept them? What does it say about what young men (at least in Athens) believed about love?
What does his technique tell us about the state of the soul of Lysis? What can we learn?
When Socrates makes a “bad” argument, why doesn’t the interlocutor do what every reader has for centuries and scream at Socrates in frustration?
Socrates is not happy at the end of the discussion. He is frustrated that they do not know what a friend is . . . which invites the reader to keep discussing (in a group) with his own friends the nature of the relationship.
You cannot read Plato alone and do what Plato thinks should be done with his work.
Reading Plato is a great deal like watching a subtle film maker like Tarkovsky. He relies on your patience and that you will know that he is good at what he does. When he appears to be “bad” at the craft, you will trust him (at least a bit) and wonder what he is doing.
Of course, Plato is not perfect and Lysis is not, perhaps, a “Republic” or “Symposium” in artistry. It is, however, (to quote the preface to the standard translation): a rich and subtle portrayal of Socrates.”
The comic writer Aristophanes was so frustrated with subtlety that he wrote a very unsubtle play that helped get Socrates killed. What larks!
Plato wrote, therefore, in a more guarded manner. He does not “hide” his meaning to frustrate modern readers, but partly for prudence. He also (see Phaedrus) worries that “dead books” that simply pronounce truths will stifle free inquiry and mental growth in a student.
Of course, I strongly suspect that Carter knows that I will react as I have reacted and that he has provoked a discussion in me (and perhaps Matt Anderson). In reacting to his review, I reread a Platonic dialogue (good for my soul!) and thought about it. His review, therefore, served a noble purpose. If that was his intent, then his Platonic trap worked.
If not, then at least I have been charitable to an excellent blogger!
Socrates was trying to talk to two young men
Up Date:
Joe has responded. In an update to the review cited above he says:
JMR makes some interesting points and he adequately defends Plato and his method. On those points we are in agreement. But what JMR has not done, in my opinion, is explain what makes Lysis a good dialogue. Plato is of the greatest thinkers in history and “friendship” is one of the great themes. So are we really to believe that this is the best that Plato could do?
As I suspected, Carter has cleverly gotten all of us to talk about Plato. One can only admire this . . . but I think the problem is that Lysis is the best Plato can do with the kind of person produced by the horrific education offered in ancient Athens and by cable television today.
If one teaches that erotica is the highest good for people, one will produce the kind of burned out and almost-invincibly dull students like Lysis. Socrates is less interested in the direct demonstration of the topic, than showing that the erotic man has no capacity or comprehension of true friendship. This is a universal theme . . . as the modern tendency to see every friendship in sexual terms demonstrates.
The slow method (which would have to be contextualized for us) of showing that what we assume we know about friendship is wrong is the best method. Lysis is great because it exposes what a man becomes who has been ruined by listening to Eros and not Wisdom. It is hard to read, because it is one of the least immediately universally comprehensible of Plato’s dialogue. You need to know the context . . . and re-contextualize more than is usual in Plato.
In that sense, I think it much weaker than Symposium, though the fact it can be done at all is amazing given the project. That it can be done shows that for all the differences in culture the cult of Eros leads to intellectual fatuity. . . something I know from personal experience and from which Plato helped or is helping (by God’s grace) deliver me.
Carter asks if any of Plato’s dialogues fail in my opinion . . . and I will admit I can get little or nothing out of Menexenus other than Plato making the point that statesmen often make horrifically tedious speeches in the name of patriotism. This is true, but one doubts Plato’s genius was needed to demonstrate it.